~ A garden set in the Wye Valley

The story of the big blue cedar

Until this week I had been putting off a couple of winter jobs in the front garden, partly because a photographer was working in the garden on a last minute winter set, and, partly because I wasn’t quite ready to say my goodbyes. The first was to start cutting back the mass plantings of grasses, starting with the terraces in front of the house; and, the second, to have the ailing blue cedar felled to the ground.

This journal entry is about how this particular tree came to be the focal point of the front garden. The blue cedar is the second, tallest, and rather gaunt looking conifer from the left shown in the image above.

In 1970, when the house was a commune, the cedar was tucked away in the right hand side of this arc of conifers that ringed the north end of the house. Possibly it’s behind the one cloaked with a rambling rose. Perhaps they were intended as a shelter belt. If so, they were planted very close to the house.

By the time we moved here in 2006 only four of them remained. On the advice of the surveyor the tallest (a conical shaped green cedar) was felled, leaving the stump to the left. At the time the photo above was taken in 2010, the blue cedar sat behind a billowing Scots Pine in the top right hand corner of the frame. Perhaps the pine had sheltered it from the northerly valley winds, which regularly hit 50mph, as well as the harsh winters of 2010-11.

In the summer of 2011 we started drawing up plans to remodel the front garden, starting with the rocky barren slope in front of the house. One of the first things we considered was which of the trees we’d build the design around. We also had to consider which of those had either outgrown their space or were on their last legs. The very first teatime sketch of the slope in front of the house shows the blue cedar (green pin) at the midpoint of concentric terraces, with the diseased pine to be deleted.

Plotting each and every tree, slope, and sightline etcetera on a structural plan led to curving parallel stone walls that echo the contours of the valley hillside. The position of the cedar is marked by an eggcup, the dashed line shows the all important extent of its dripline. From the scribbled jottings on this enlarged section of my dog-eared plan I can see I was jumping ahead, noting ideas for the fun bit – planting, including nearly a dozen small ornamental trees to replace those that had been lost.

To my mind’s eye, the late summer colour plan looked ‘right’ with the statuesque blue green tree as the centrepiece.

February 2012

Six months later, the ground work was completed and the new terraces, which taper to ground level just beyond the dripline of the tree, were ready for planting. This image is not flattering to the tree, taken at this angle it shows that the cedar’s shape had suffered, its ‘skirts’ had been lifted leaving 3 metres of bare trunk. Planted as it was so close to the drive, lower side branches had been snapped off by successive passing builders’ lorries or removals vans. Branches on the opposing side were lopped off to balance the shape. A knowing visitor once wryly observed ‘such is the fate of a parkland specimen in a modest sized English country garden’.

The tree at its bluest and most beautiful best July 2013

Once the areas around the tree were planted up the tree sat more comfortably in its new surroundings. Personally, I liked the shock of the vibrant blue rising above the technicolour summer ‘prairie’ planting, and, I liked the way this jolly blue giant arched its long limbs in greeting across the garden. One way or the other, the cedar worked its way into practically every image, often boldly so. But sometimes the effect was more subtle, perhaps a feathery bow fringing the roofline of the house, or, extending like a finger across either a path or the planting below.

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Then, midway through 2014, the tree turned an anaemic looking green colour before shedding abnormal quantities of rusty coloured needles. The advice was to monitor it for a year and in following it closely in its decline I came to appreciate the not so blue cedar all the more, knowing that if we lost this particular tree the garden would never be quite the same again. Even sadly defoliated, minus its lush blue mantle and brittle limbs on show, the tree in its entirety still possessed a certain graceful charm.

So, the decision to fell a 50′ tall tree, that must have taken nearly as many years to grow, wasn’t taken lightly. Short of leaving it to die back further, and then perhaps turn it into a totem pole, we felt we had no option but to call in the best tree gang we could find. They were brilliant, so gently was the framework dismantled that to my amazement not one cyclamen nestling among its roots was damaged in the process.

This is the same view from the apple barn steps as in the opening image, I take a shot of the garden from here at least once a month for my records. This is the first in which the cedar doesn’t feature, a red trug sits on its stump as a marker. The terrace of grasses, rudbeckia and nepeta has been cleared too, revealing the cheerful mix of dogwoods, birches and luzulus. Just as I was studying the gap left by the missing cedar, we had some good news : the photographer’s set has been accepted by a magazine for publication in late winter 2016. I shall be looking out for a glimpse of the blue cedar among the images that the editorial team select.

Absolutely, a professional crew are amazing to watch in action – as you know and illustrated so well in your post last year. You’re quite right, sometimes there’s no other choice, especially with a bit of the house at stake.

Indeed, so much wisdom in what you say, and besides lamenting the loss of the tree I do think about what to replace it with. As the area is really quite small, I’d probably keep it to more suitably sized natives or well behaved foreign ornamentals. Any suggestions?

I so enjoyed reading this post Kate and hearing your thoughts about the blue cedar over a period of time – and seeing how that part of the garden developed from your original tea time sketch. I love to relate things to maps and plans and see them from this different perspective. Removing trees for whatever reason sometimes opens up unexpected opportunities so it will be intriguing to what transpires in due course. Thanks for sharing Kate

Thank you Cathy, piecing the scraps together was a very useful exercise for me and, I hope, a nice way to remember a lovely tree. I have learned a lot from the cedar, not least to think carefully about how ‘unsuitable’ conifers can add value, even to a ‘grassy’ garden. I wonder what I’ll do about this corner too!

I enjoyed reading this Kate, thanks for sharing. The loss of such a great tree is hard but this is the next phase for the garden and you can add a new tree which may be better suited and dare I say it, more fashionable?

You’re quite right, the ring of conifers may well have been planted when they were highly fashionable and so outgrew more than just space. Or perhaps they were ex Christmas trees? I prefer small ornamental trees with interesting bark, especially birches.

I am sorry for your loss Kate, but actually I really like the last shot in the post. The cedar was a great anchoring point and I can see how you would look to it to frame views etc. Now you have a chance for something lighter, with more movement and maybe different colours. (I loved seeing your plans, thanks)

Thank you, Alison, that’s a very interesting point of view, encouraging too. Funnily enough, those with a professional ‘eye’ for colour/composition etc have sometimes suggested this sort of ‘edit’ to the planting. I like the idea of this or any other tree as an anchor.

Having just been admiring your combination of birch/cornus/snowdrops I’m tempted to borrow it! There are already two trios of birches in this part of the garden, I wonder how a third would fit in? There are some lovely forms and they’re fast growing trees, so lots to recommend them.

Fascinating post on how you arrived at a planting plan which clearly worked with the cedar in situ. It will be fascinating to hear what you replace it with. Yes I too have huge respect for good tree surgeons.

Thank you. I really do think it did work albeit in a strange sort of way, maybe just not as quite as long as I’d hoped it would. I hate taking down what should be a long lived tree. God bless good tree surgeons!

Cedrus libani, Cedrus atlantica, Cedrus atlantica glauca–maybe a visit to North Africa or Lebanon where you could offer your obeisances at the feet of massive mature specimens may close that circle. Plant for yourself or for generations hence?

The Arnold Arboretum in Boston used to have an exceptional collection of conifers more than a century old if you are in the area.